Halcyon Days of Peace
by Eyrial
Summary: There was a time before Squire Thornton became the man he did, a time when Isabella was truly happy.   T for violence


He was very gentle at first, no matter how much he scared me he always treated me with care, like I would break if he was too rough. At least he did for the first few months, everything changed when he realised just how tough I was. But perhaps it was the memory of those early days when I thought I might grow to love him that kept me with him for seventeen years, perhaps I hoped that he would go back to the gentle loving man I knew.

When he first arrived in our little village Guy was immediately interested, an English noble man was a novelty in Anjou and he desperately needed a leg up. There had never been anything for us in France and both Guy and I were keen to get back to England and re-establish ourselves there. Soon however it became clear his interest was not in Guy but in me, Guy was thrilled but I was more cautious. I didn't like him; he made my blood run cold.

Before I knew it it was my wedding day and I was walking down the aisle to meet him, grinning at me in a way that gave me goose bumps. He terrified me; maybe I saw what he would become. As the vows were being said I was already dreading the night time, the peasant girls in the village had told me everything about what I could expect. The very thought disgusted me, the only knowledge I had of the male body was Guy from when I was very little. We bathed together, and if we were playing and we were caught short, he would go right there in front of me. But the thought of this man made me shudder, it wouldn't be childish innocence, it would be the start of my womanhood.

But he was gentle, so very gentle. He led me by the hand into his room, our room, and softly told me to stand still and do as he told me. He could tell I was scared, what woman wouldn't be, especially a newly wed thirteen year old girl. I grew even more frightened when he moved behind me and I could no longer see him and what he was doing, but I didn't have long to wait. He carefully brushed my long hair away, pushing it over my shoulder so he could get at my back easily. I had always been small but his hands seemed huge as I felt him slowly loosen the laces of my dress. He placed them on my waist and slid it off my body until I was standing there in my thin shift, it was cold. Then the shift came off too until it was just his warm, rough hands against my bare skin. He spun me round to face him; I was naked and ashamed, shivering in the cold. I had been scrupulously cleaned in preparation for this moment, my hair was still faintly damp and he leaned in to take in the smell of soap. I never felt more like a little child. I looked up at his face and all I had seen there that scared me was gone. His black hair was long then; the fringe fell into his eyes as he looked me up and down. Instinctively I moved my hands and arms to cover my most private places.

"No." He whispered. "Let me look at you."

There was a tender look in his eyes that reminded me of how Guy used to be before everything took its toll, our parents' death, the struggle of life in France. Suddenly he picked me up and carried me to bed like one would to a sleeping child; he placed me on it carefully and told me to shut my eyes. I was too scared to do anything but obey. The sudden shock of his intrusion scared me, but there was never any pain. He made sure of that.

The next few months passed happily, well as happy as I could be, we travelled back to England and I missed Guy. He had been everything to me, home, brother, father, best friend. I needed little guidance, my mother had taught me how to be a wife from an early age and I had spent the past five years in France looking after Guy and our excuse for a home while he earned us money.

From time to time Thornton, or Tom he was to me then, would bid me to come and sit with him. He had hard days, although he was a noble man with a certain amount of standing he had had to fight for it, and I knew that. He would sit me on his knee and stroke my face, running his fingers through my hair while just looking at me. He would kiss me, softly but full of desire, as if there was something there was he could barely restrain. Between kisses he would mumble things under his breath about how beautiful I was how I was "his little wife, his and no one else's" His eyes almost glowed when he did that, naïve as I was I thought it was love or wonder then, now I know it was fanaticism. It was this that made him change.

I was lonely then, I always was, but when I was young I couldn't deal with it. I was homesick, not for France, but for Guy. There was a young kitchen hand; he was new to the job and around my age. He hadn't yet learned his place and I was still young and desperately hankered after friendship, and with him I got it. It saddens me that I can't remember his name, he was the only friend I had in seventeen long years, I learnt it was best not to after that. It was completely innocent, he would bring me food and we would eat it together, just talking idly. He would talk about his grand dreams of becoming a knight, of course I knew he was too low born ever to achieve such a thing, but I listened. I liked to think about Guy. But one day Thornton walked in on us, we weren't doing anything, just giggling at something. But he snapped. The light was back in his eyes again but this time it was so much brighter, all I had feared in him had left me but it came flooding back intensified just like his look. He didn't shout only grabbed the boy by the hair and dragged him from the room, I heard his screams for ages afterwards, I don't know what my husband did but I never saw the boy afterwards. I sat in the room he had left me in, too scared to move from it. I sat huddled in the corner when he came back in. He never shouted but it was that day I learnt what pain was, and when I ran from the room carrying my ripped clothes, naked, covered in blood and fresh bruises, sobbing I learnt to truly fear the monster I was tied to. It was that day he learnt how much I could truly stand.

I suppose I was a fool to stay for so long, but the imprint of the young handsome man I was married to in those first few months always remained. Just like my memories of my kind loving brother. I know so much better now, men are never what they seem.

* * *

A/N: Written a year ago for an LJ secret santa


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